


In Which Thomas Finds a Wife

by sleepdeprivedwriter



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, This is so slow burn that Jimmy isn’t even in the first few chapters, Thomas and Jimmy get their happy ending but it will take a while, but we’ll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-12-25 14:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18262778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepdeprivedwriter/pseuds/sleepdeprivedwriter
Summary: Alteratively: Thomas meets a woman, causes scandal throughout the household multiple times, lusts over a certain blonde ex-footman, and finally finds happiness.





	1. “Didn’t Your Mother Ever Tell You Not to Speak With Strange Men?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, so I’ve never written for Downton before but I’ve had this idea in my head for like a month so I thought I’d finally write it down. In total, this fic will probably be around fifteen chapters long, give or take a few. I’ll try to update this as regularly as possible, but life can get busy so please don’t hate me if updates aren’t as regular as I would like them to be :)

If someone had asked Thomas Barrow how he had ended up slumped over, face in palms, on the sticky counter of the Grantham Arms, he himself wouldn’t have had a clear answer. At least, not one he could share with just anyone. He could have cited Baxter forcing him to Dr. Clarkson after discovering the pills and needles he was destroying his body with. He could also have cited the fact that once the snarky blond footman he so adored had left Downton, he was once again alone. It was perfectly acceptable in Thomas’ eyes to drink oneself to death if that individual happens to find himself utterly and completely alone in the universe. 

It just so happened that someone did ask Thomas just how he ended up slumped over, face in palms, on the bar counter, and it just so happened that that someone would later become Thomas’ wife, for better or for worse.

She had laughed at him. A loud and bouncy sort of laugh that made his head pound and his eyes water. God, Carson was going to murder him the next morning. 

“So, why are you drinking your sorrows away on this fine Thursday evening?” She grinned at him and he frowned. It was rather forward, for a woman. 

“S’nothing,” Thomas hoped she wouldn’t notice just how messy he was. He was thirty-three years old and could handle his bloody drink. He was just having a rough day, is all. 

“I doubt that very much.” The woman’s blue eyes sparkled and she looked amused at Thomas’ discomfort. He felt his shoulders tense.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to speak with strange men?” He snapped back at her, taking a sip of the watery ale he had been nursing for the past half hour.

“I think calling yourself a strange man is a bit generous. Makes you sound far more mysterious and alluring than I believe you are.” Thomas looked her in the eye, trying to sort out where she was coming from. She was very lippy for a woman who appeared so well-educated, if her accent was indeed genuine. She stuck out a dainty hand in his direction. “Elizabeth Hackney. But I prefer my friends to call me Liz.”

“Thomas Barrow.” He shook her hand, despite himself.

“And what do your friends call you?” This one was clever, Thomas thought as he bitterly laughed.

“They don’t.” She raised an eyebrow at that. “Well, Miss Hackney, I cannot say it’s been a great pleasure meeting you, but I believe I must go now.” Better to let her know right off where Thomas stood when it came to women. 

“I think I’ll head out, as well. Would you walk with me, Mr Barrow?” She was persistent, he would give her that. 

Out of a sheer curiousity, Thomas agreed. It wasn’t every day a man like Thomas was approached by a woman who wanted something, even if Thomas was unsure precisely what. It wasn’t every day Thomas was approached by a woman, at all. 

Not that he cared what the village thought, but it was admittedly not a bad idea to be seen walking a respectable young lady home. 

“I suppose you should tell me where you live,” Thomas said as they stepped outside. The air was chilled and Elizabeth’s teeth chattered as the pair stood huddled by the door to the pub. 

“I suppose I should,” she said without providing any further details. It was infuriating. 

A minute passed. Then another. Then five more, and finally Thomas broke the silence.

“Well, if you’re not going to bloody tell me, then I won’t ask. I’ll be leaving now, thank you very much, Miss Hackney,” Thomas turned on his heel and began walking up the path that would eventually lead to the Abbey. 

He could hear the sound of the soles of her heels on the dirt from behind him but didn’t turn around. When she caught up to him, she was silent.

The wind flicked the trees around like feathers and Thomas did not stop to give Miss Hackney his coat like etiquette dictated. 

They didn’t stop until they were at the servant’s entrance to Downton. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief when the familiar courtyard came into view and standing in front of the door with Miss Hackney a good enough distance away from him, he felt himself let the tension in his shoulders relax just a bit.

“You must be half-mad for following me all the way to the doorstep like a lost cat, and while I’m sure Lord and Lady Grantham would just love for me to bring you inside at nearly one in the morning without their permission or knowledge, I must leave you now,” Elizabeth smiled at his outburst. 

“Goodnight, Mr Barrow,” she said softly after he turned away from her to unlock the door. He stood up straight. 

“Goodnight, Miss Hackney.”

As the door shut behind him, he let out a whisper of a laugh. Yes, he had to get to bed before Carson had him tarred and feathered, but as he climbed the stairs to his room he found himself smirking at the prospect of a new friend. Or maybe it was just the drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! constructive criticism is always welcome if you’d like to leave a comment lol and i’ll have chapter two up later this week
> 
> p.s. thomas is still very much gay, but that’ll come in later


	2. Thomas Lets Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consequences from Carson, a snooping Miss Baxter, and another encounter with the strange woman from the pub who surprisingly doesn’t make Thomas’ day any worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel sort of on a roll here, so Chapter Three and Four to come soon!

It felt as though someone had taken a frying pan to his head and a cup of lemon juice to his eyes when Thomas awoke the next morning. He grimaced at the sound of the hallboy’s knock on his door and wondered if it had always been so loud. 

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and - while it took longer that he’d like to admit - stood from his bed. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he made his way downstairs only to be assaulted by Carson’s booming voice coming from directly behind him. Thomas jumped at the sound and Carson walked around the younger man so he could look him in the eye as he harassed him.

“So nice of you to finally join us, Mr Barrow. I was about to send out the search party,” Thomas sighed as Carson glared into his soul once more before breakfast. They sat at the breakfast table with the rest of the staff and Carson began rambling on about something or other, probably lecturing the staff about the proper way to bow at Lady Mary’s feet and kiss the very ground she walked upon. Whatever it was, Thomas wasn’t listening. He flicked through the paper until his fingers involuntarily stopped on an article written by one Patrick Kent.

Kent. Thomas stared a hole through the word on the newspaper. He could feel his chest tighten up. 

“Mr Barrow! Do I need to remind you that this is your place of employment, not a beachside holiday?” Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat as Carson continued. “If a trip to the pub on your half-day results in such lethargy, then I shall not be inclined to let you out on your next!” Carson’s voice echoed through the Servant’s Hall. Thomas wondered if the family could ever hear him yelling. Not likely, he supposed.

“Now, Mr Carson, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Mrs Hughes nodded at Thomas and turned to face the fuming butler. Thomas could see the grey-haired man let out a sigh and that was the end of that. 

***

Later that evening, Thomas found himself alone in the Servant’s Hall. He sat in the rocking chair he’d claimed as his years ago and fiddled with a pen and paper, which he had resting on his lap. 

He stared at the blank page. It wasn’t as if he expected Jimmy to write him because he hadn’t been that naive. It also wasn’t as if he had found the words to write anything himself.

There seemed to be too much to say and too few words to say it. So each letter he started either ended up blank or scribbled out, thrown away before Thomas could think about it. 

“Thomas?” It was Miss Baxter and unfortunately for him, she always had a way of seeing through Thomas. “Are you alright? You seemed off today.”

“It’s Mr Barrow to you, and I’m fine,” he replied - words harsh, but voice soft. 

Ever since the “Choose Your Own Path” incident, Miss Baxter had been watching over him like a mother. It was both obnoxious and endearing, though he’d never admit the latter out loud. 

Thomas’ snark didn’t push her away and she pulled up a chair to sit beside him. 

“Who are you writing to?” She asked in a way that was somehow not as invasive as Thomas had expected. He crumpled the paper into a ball. 

“I’m not.” 

Thomas ignored her look of disappointment and stood up to escape to bed. 

She didn’t call after him and Thomas wasn’t sure if it would have annoyed him more or less if she had. 

***

It was before his next half day when Thomas had returned to the Grantham Arms. It was mid-October and there was a fall fair set up by the church and funded by the house, so Carson gave the staff the evening off and the gaggle of servants made their way to the festivities. Thomas walked down with them mostly for appearances. When in a disgusting turn of events, Miss Baxter stopped her babysitting over him for a moment to make eyes at Mr Molesley, Thomas took the opportunity to sneak off. 

Before he knew it, he was sitting in a booth at the pub, the same watery ale he was drinking days before once again in his hand. Thomas wouldn’t say he was watching the door, no, he was just checking it every so often. Every so often in this case meant approximately every four seconds.

He nearly got whiplash from turning his head so quickly at the sight of a woman with dark brown hair neatly pinned up and as she approached his table he could feel his lip twitch upwards.

“Mr Barrow, I have to say I am shocked and appalled to see you shut in the pub on such a festive evening for the village,” Miss Hackney had sarcasm dripping from her voice and Thomas loved it. 

“I don’t believe you could be quite as shocked as I am to see you here on what you’ve established is a dreadfully important night for the village, not to mention the Church,” Thomas grinned. 

“Oh, yes, the Church. May I sit?” She gestured to the empty seat.

“You didn’t bloody ask last time,” Thomas shrugged in replacement of a proper answer. 

She took that as a yes, and carefully took her place across from him. Thomas looked around. The pub was more crowded than usual; it seemed as if they weren’t the only ones avoiding the fall fair. The music seemed to increase by the minute and it didn’t take long before couples began assembling on the dance floor. Thomas and Elizabeth looked at each other, then at the dancers, then at each other again. 

Thomas had picked up a thing or two in the jazz clubs of America he had visited during his time off while he was overseas with Lord Grantham. He started off slow, not wanting to overwhelm his dance partner nor those who kept glancing over at them. However, it seemed Elizabeth had learnt a thing or two herself at some point, because everytime Thomas would speed up, she’d match him and bring it a level higher. Thomas felt as if they were floating along the floor, limbs in a frantic flurry and feet sliding effortlessly. 

Thomas did not notice when a few familiar beaming faces from the Abbey squeezed into the crowded pub to watch. 

“Did you know Mr Barrow could dance like that?” Mr Molesley had whispered.

Miss Baxter didn’t look away from the black-haired man grinning and flying before her eyes. “No, no I didn’t.”

“I did,” Daisy piped in from where she stood in-between Molesley and Baxter. “He taught me how to do the Grizzly Bear before the war,” she smiled and thought to herself that it was nice to see Thomas look happy. 

Three and a half drinks and at least five or six dances later, Thomas was pleasantly light-headed and drenched with sweat. Hands clasped together, he and Elizabeth gave a cheeky bow before making their way to get another round of beers. 

“I don’t think I’ve had that much fun since…” Thomas trailed off. Since playing cards with Jimmy, he was going to say, but caught himself in time. “I can’t even remember the last time I’ve had that much fun, actually.” It was a little white lie, but one he definitely chose not to think about. Elizabeth laughed her bouncy-ball laugh, but it didn’t hurt Thomas’ head this time. 

Elizabeth put down her half-finished pint, settled their tab with the pub, and pulled Thomas outside by the arm. Thomas wasn’t quite sure how they ended up giggling on the front steps of the church together, but in his alcohol-fueled state he wasn’t mad that they were. 

“So, Mr Thomas Barrow, where did you learn to dance like that?”

“In certain clubs where a woman like you would surely stay out of,” Thomas reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out his cigarettes. “How about you; where did Miss Elizabeth Hackney learn to dance like a madwoman?” 

“In certain clubs that a man like you might be surprised to see a woman like me go to,” she plucked the fag from his fingers and took a drag. “I’m less stuffy than my accent suggests, Mr Barrow.” He simply blinked in response. 

“What you said before about not having this much fun in forever, I would agree with that.” She paused and Thomas looked over at her profile, her eyes squinting thoughtfully and cigarette burning in hand. “I haven’t had this much fun with someone since before I learnt how the world works, and that certain people just aren’t allowed to have fun together.” Thomas leaned away from her. What had she heard about him?

“I don’t think I know what you’re referring to.” An ice returned to his voice and his jaw clenched. Elizabeth gave him a funny look.

“Mr Barrow, there was a man whom I very deeply loved, but he could not love me back. At least, not openly, he couldn’t.” Thomas frowned; now he was confused. “He was married.” Oh, that made sense. Thomas decided she was definitely drunk if she were to so freely discuss her past endeavours as an unmarried woman. 

“I see,” Thomas nodded awkwardly.

“What did you think I was talking about?” She asked him, head tilted. 

“It’s unimportant.” 

“Oh, lighten up, haven’t you ever heard of an even trade? I told you mine, I believe you have to tell me yours now.” Thomas’ throat suddenly felt sandpaper dry and he wished he’d nicked the other half of Elizabeth’s beer from off the counter of the pub. 

“My what?”

“The last time you had this much fun,” She nudged him and Thomas gave up. He was tipsy and the cold air was causing him to freeze due to the sweat from dancing. 

“The last time I had this much fun was before my…” Thomas couldn’t find the right word to describe Jimmy. They were only friends, yes, but somehow that felt limiting, untruthful even, but friend was easier and safer, so he stuck with it. “My friend, before he left. He was a footman at the big house, and I cared for him… deeply. Sometimes, we used to stay up late playing cards and smoking or we’d sneak the occasional whisky or two. That was the last time I had this much fun.” Elizabeth nodded.

“I’d like for us to be friends, Thomas.” He looked at her. “I think we could both use a friend.” 

Thomas nodded back. “I’d like that.”

The pair of drunks inappropriately dissolved into a fit of giggles at this time. 

“Mr Barrow, wherefore art thou Barrow?” Elizabeth’s voice fluttered. Thomas grinned. Yes, poetry was certainly the way to a bender’s heart.

“A lavender by any other name would smell just as sweet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Leave a comment if you liked it - or what you didn’t like, constructive criticism is the best in my eyes :)


	3. Less Marriage, More Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas finds out a bit more about Miss Elizabeth Hackney, but does he really want to know it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things begin to get more complicated... This is the longest chapter yet, enjoy!

It had been a few weeks since the fall fair and Thomas and Elizabeth had been exchanging letters via the pub. The barkeep must’ve thought them to be mad every time one of them would drop off a letter for the other at the pub counter. Thomas realised to some it would appear as some wild - shockingly open - affair, but that was far from the truth. 

Thomas could be seen writing on scrap pieces of paper in any moment he had to himself where Mr Carson wasn’t breathing down his neck. Whenever Mr Molesley or Mr Bates would say something particularly stupid, Thomas would write it down for Elizabeth. Whenever Thomas read a funny bit in a book or a poem that made him think about things, he’d write it down for Elizabeth. Whenever he saw something in the newspaper he thought Elizabeth might be interested in, he’d rip it out for Elizabeth while no one paid attention. It was substantially easier to write to Elizabeth than any of his attempts to write to Jimmy ever had been.

He told her about some of his wilder schemes, and how he always wanted to be a doctor after the war, but didn’t dare approach Dr Clarkson to ask for his guidance. He told her about the others downstairs and their own quirks and personalities.

She told him about her brother, who she said was her best friend until his death in the early days of the war and how she enlisted as a nurse immediately afterwards, much to her parents discomfort. Thomas didn’t dare say it, but Elizabeth reminded him so much of Sybil. Almost too much.

They never talked about their parents and although Thomas was curious about her upbringing, he didn’t mind too much. He wasn’t keen on discussing his own childhood, so he felt he understood in a way. 

Writing to Elizabeth and going to the pub became Thomas’ biggest two hobbies, much to the confusion of many of the Downton staff.

One morning during breakfast, Mrs Patmore had yelled something nonsensical yet brilliant at one of the kitchen maids and Thomas immediately jotted it down in the column of a letter he was writing as he snickered to himself. Daisy smiled softly at him as she continued to pour tea into the cups of everyone around the table. 

“Thomas, is that to a sweetheart you keep writing to?” She asked with no trace of unkindness in her voice. Mr Carson’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

“I would hope not,” Mr Carson frowned before Thomas could answer. “And Mr Barrow, please ensure that your silly little notes are safely away and out of side when the Dowager Countess comes to dinner this evening.”

“Yes, Mr Carson, and it’s not anyone’s business, but no, it’s not a sweetheart, thank you _very _much.” Thomas folded up the letter with a little more aggression than necessary and excused himself from the table.__

____

“Miss Baxter, might I have a word with you? About Mr Barrow?” Thomas froze halfway up the staircase to eavesdrop on who sounded to be Mr Molesley. 

____

“Yes, of course,” came Baxter's concerned reply. 

____

“Well, I was just wondering if you’d noticed how much time Thomas has been spending at the pub recently. I don’t mean to intrude, I really don’t, but I’ve known quite a few men with problems with that sort of thing, and I was wondering if there was anything we could do to help him get over it.” Mr Molesley mumbled. 

____

_Help him get over it? _Thomas felt his blood start to boil and was already plotting multiple ways of revenge in his head before he continued to listen.__

______ _ _

“I know no one thinks about it much in England, at least in comparison to America, but alcohol dependence is a problem and if we can help Thomas, then I’d like to, even if he can be a pain, most of the time.” 

______ _ _

_Alcohol dependence? _Thomas snorted. Molesley truly was an idiot. He’d have to write Elizabeth about this.__

________ _ _ _ _

*** 

________ _ _ _ _

For the first time in years, Thomas hummed to himself as he supervised Mr Molesley setting the table for the upstairs dinner. Mr Molesley kept shooting him puzzled looks, but Thomas was too in his own head to notice or care. The humming stopped when Mr Carson marched through the doors as if he was commanding an army. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Mr Molesley, please set out an additional plate, we’ve had an unexpected guest.” Mr Molesley nodded hurriedly as Thomas scoffed. Mr Carson turned to him.

________ _ _ _ _

“Something you’d like to say, Mr Barrow?”

________ _ _ _ _

“No, Mr Carson,” Thomas gritted his teeth and gave a very forced smile. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Good,” and with that, Mr Carson made his way back downstairs, likely to decant the wine. It had been ten years since he’d been caught nicking wine bottles, but Mr Carson still wouldn’t let him near his pantry’s supply of wines and liquors. 

________ _ _ _ _

The day continued and Thomas resided in his mind. He sometimes thought that Elizabeth was a replacement of sorts for Miss O’Brien. Except Miss Hackney had wit, intellect, and grace, and while she was pushy and forward, Thomas couldn’t see her pushing him into any unseemly situations with blonde footmen. Thomas tried not to grind his teeth together while remembering that direful day, but failed. He bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste copper on his tongue in an attempt to calm himself. 

________ _ _ _ _

This turned out to be a bad time to think of such things as the family and their guests took their cue and made their way to the dining room. Thomas regained his blank composure as they were seated until he looked to the seat of the “unexpected guest” and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. In his moment of weakness, Thomas’ jaw dropped and he gawked at his one and only friend sitting at the table and chatting idly to Lady Mary. Elizabeth’s eyes met his own and she gave him a small nod without breaking her conversation. 

________ _ _ _ _

Carson glanced over at him, only to notice his highly inappropriate staring and guided him out of the dining room with a bruising grip on his shoulder and a whisper to Mr Molesley about needing to grab the right port. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Mr Barrow, if you are unable to compose yourself in the dining room, then you should think long and hard about whether or not a career in service is right for you. I don’t know where your lack of self-control came from, as this is not commonplace - even for you, but you had better believe that after dinner I expect you in my office at once.” Thomas had had more lectures from Mr Carson than he’d ever care to admit, but never about his composure in front of the family. He’d been reprimanded countless times for his attitude downstairs or his behaviour towards others, but never the quality of his work. It was upsetting, to say the least. 

________ _ _ _ _

Thomas was sent downstairs for the rest of the meal under the guise of supervising the hallboys. However, he took the opportunity to sneak out to the courtyard, box of cigarettes in hand. He fumbled with his lighter and in his anger, couldn’t get it to light. He grumbled and continued to mess about with it until a flame appeared steady enough for him to hold up to the end of the cigarette he was chewing on. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Care to spare one?” Elizabeth had somehow managed to make herself scarce in the dining room and found her way to stand in front of him. He glared at her and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

________ _ _ _ _

“I’m sorry, Thomas, I should have told you.” 

________ _ _ _ _

“Shouldn’t you be in the dining room?” He ignored her sincerity. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Shouldn’t you?” She tried to joke, but it fell flat. “Lady Mary upset Lady Edith, so dinner was put off. Thomas, I really am sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”

________ _ _ _ _

“To be frank, I don’t know if we ever were friends. I don’t even know who you are, not really.” Thomas knew it was harsh, but he didn’t have any care for niceties. 

________ _ _ _ _

“You’re being ridiculous, Thomas.”

________ _ _ _ _

“Am I really?” Thomas challenged.

________ _ _ _ _

“You know plenty about me. I just didn’t mention who my parents are. It’s not as if you ever asked, even though you clearly observed I had been born into wealth given my accent and clothes and posture. So, why are you mad?” Thomas didn’t want to admit that she had a point. Yes, he could tell she was well-off when they met, but it was one thing to notice she sat up straight and another to walk in only to see her chatting up the daughters of the Earl of Grantham. 

________ _ _ _ _

“I knew you were a toff, but I wasn’t expecting to have to serve you. Furthermore, you knew I worked here, you knew it, and yet you didn’t give me any warning that you were to be expected or tell me that you were running about with the Crawley sisters or -” Thomas stopped himself before he could continue. She grabbed a cigarette from the box he was still holding and then took the lighter out of his hand before he could object.

________ _ _ _ _

“My mother was the youngest daughter of the Duke of Manchester and Daddy is a politician.” She lit her cigarette, passing the lighter back to Thomas. “He’s in France at the moment, sorting out the nation’s future, so I’ve been staying at the Dower House for the past month or so while he’s been gone. She’s my godmother and agreed to keep me out of trouble until he can return to England.” Thomas blinked in response. It was a lot of information to take in.

________ _ _ _ _

“I cannot believe I’ve gotten myself involved with one of them. Have I become Tom bloody Brandon?” He looked up at the dark clouded sky overhead and laughed. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Tom Branson is the husband of the late Lady Sybil, I believe?” Elizabeth inquired. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Yes, but before that he was a chauffeur here at the house,” Thomas snorted. Elizabeth smiled and Thomas squinted his eyes at her as he took a drag off of his cigarette. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Is this a proposal, Mr Barrow?” Thomas choked on the smoke in his lungs and took a minute to cough into his arm before looking up at her.

________ _ _ _ _

“Excuse me? Are you mad?” She had already proved herself to be a bit loony, but this was confirmation of her insanity. 

________ _ _ _ _

“Perhaps, I am a bit. You said that Tom Branson was _married _to a toff, as you so kindly put it. So, what do you say, would you marry me if I asked you nicely?”__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

Thomas was flabbergasted. Clearly, she did not understand what he had meant when he told her about how deep his care for certain men ran.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Nothing to offend you, Miss Hackney, but you’re not my… kind.” He finished awkwardly and she laughed loudly. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I know that, Mr Barrow, what I’m suggesting is less of a ‘marriage’ and more of a mirage. I’ve been thinking it over for a while now. My family would lose their minds if they heard I was to marry an underbutler and I’d rather like to bear witness to that. That, and I have absolutely no interest in raising children or being a pretty little housewife that my husband can flaunt around at social events, which I know I wouldn’t be in a marriage with a man like you.” Thomas raised an eyebrow and considered this for a moment. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

He’d never really given marriage much of a thought, finding the very idea of being forced into a lifelong commitment to a woman repulsive. It made him sick to his stomach to think of living more of a lie than he already had to, by law. But marriage to a woman who knew about him - who knew about the other men? It was something to ponder.

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“What’s in it for me?” He found himself asking before his brain could process what he was saying. It might’ve sounded self-centred, but it was a fair question. 

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Quite a hefty inheritance when my father dies, as well as the social benefits. You’d have a wife with strong connections; you would no longer be seen as a _confirmed bachelor _, we could travel together and see the world, and well, I think we make a good team.” She looked slightly embarrassed at her last point which Thomas thought was quite endearing. Since when had he gone so soft? He’d never have thought that he’d see sentiment as charming. “Will you give me an answer?”__

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He smirked. “Maybe, if you ask properly.” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, none of that snark, if I’m to be your betrothed,” Thomas teased.

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Elizabeth said under her breath as she carefully kneeled before him. She reached up and grasped his hands. Thomas noticed the way she delicately touched his gloved hand with her thumb and he looked away. “It’s damp down here, I’m completely ruining this dress.”

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Good.” She glared at him. 

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Thomas - I’ve just realised that I don’t know your middle name, what’s your middle name?” She panicked and looked at him with wide eyes, as if her not knowing his middle name was a dealbreaker in this little charade they were entering.

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“It’s James.”

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Thomas James Barrow, would you do me the decent honour of becoming my awfully wedded husband?” She squeezed his hands. 

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Awfully?” He frowned. 

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Am I incorrect?” He rolled his eyes. “Would you give me a bloody answer, please? My knees are starting to ache.”

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Yes, I will marry you for the sole purpose of creating a mutually beneficial illusion.” She grinned at him as he pulled her up off of her knees to stand across from him and Thomas could tell she had thought of something cheeky to say.

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“I feel as though that describes most marriages, Thomas.” 

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He was beginning to thoroughly enjoy that grin.

____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed Chapter Three, it’s about to get interesting once news of the engagement is spread! Comments are always appreciated :)


	4. The News Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Elizabeth’s engagement is announced and their are many opinions about it, both upstairs and downstairs. Let’s just hope poor Carson doesn’t go into cardiac arrest when he hears about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good lord, this chapter took way too long to finish. Long story short, I got caught up with life stuff and had no time to write, blah blah blah. However, I am still planning on continuing this story and I’m excited to share these next couple of chapters with you guys because lemme tell you, things get interesting ;)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Every morning, Thomas ran out to meet the paperboy for a quick flip-through of the newspaper before passing it off to one of the hallboys to iron. The reasoning for this was simple: Thomas and Elizabeth hadn’t exactly discussed the way in which they would announce their impending nuptials. Thomas had gotten into the routine of spending every minute of his mornings musing over how others would react to the news. The other servants would probably gawk at him during breakfast, questioning whether or not it was true; Carson would probably keel over from a heart attack, and the family would question his intentions, likely thinking the whole thing to be part of his latest scheme. It occurred to him that he might be out of a job after Lord Grantham read the papers. The thought terrified him, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. He hadn’t even begun to think about what his employment and living arrangements would look like _after_ their marriage.

Beyond Downton’s reach, Thomas wondered what the ghosts of his past would say. He wasn’t sure just how publicised the announcement of this pairing would be, given how influential Elizabeth’s familial ties seemed to be. Thomas imagined the Duke of Crowborough reclining at his breakfast table, waving his hand impatiently for the footmen to bring him his morning paper. He saw him opening it and skimming the pages, finding everything either unimportant or below him. Then, his eyes would cast over a familiar name. He’d be taking a sip of his tea, Thomas decided, and he’d choke on it as he reread the small paragraph about the happy couple. His mouth would be scalded and his paper wet. Thomas grinned at the image in his mind and wondered if there was any logical chance that Phillip would be invited to his wedding by the bride’s uppercrust relatives. Was it bad that he sort of hoped he would be? Perhaps.

Thomas’ mind often shifted to his own relatives and what they’d say if they saw the announcement. His father would be furious, most certainly, and regret that the name Barrow had ever been attached to his degenerate son at all. His father would undoubtedly see through the charade like he had nearly twenty years ago when Thomas vehemently denied that he had any sort of affection for Daniel Hopkins, the priest’s son. When he caught Thomas and Daniel so much as looking at each other during the Sunday services, Thomas would be dragged by the ear and beat senseless once they got home. Very quickly, Thomas learnt that the Lord’s Day was to be associated with his father’s belt buckle. It was no wonder he didn’t give a rat’s arse about church or religion as an adult.

Though with Thomas’ father it was a straightforward disownment, things were far more complicated with his older sister. He imagined Margaret reading the newspaper, babies bouncing on her knees, and seeing that her little Tommy was to be married to a Duke’s granddaughter. He honestly couldn’t say how she’d react, whether or not she’d believe in its authenticity.

Whether or not she’d be happy for him.

Thomas sighed and shook the thought away. His mind wandered around to the many faces of his past, but stuck on one like a broken record. This one was, unsurprisingly, Jimmy. Like a record that skips over and over again, Thomas would begin thinking of the ex-footman and visualise him opening the newspaper to a random page. He could see Jimmy in his mind scanning the page before seeing his old friend’s name in black print, but it always stopped there. Thomas’ mind would cut out and begin the thought again, but he’d never think past the opening of the newspaper. It hurt too much.

***

Thomas’ cycle of overthinking the newspaper was broken one Wednesday morning when the newsboy didn’t arrive on time. Thomas waited by the back door as long as he could, cigarette in hand and looking out at the snippet of the house’s pathway that could be seen from the courtyard. Eventually, he had to give it up and go back inside, scowling as he did so.

“Peter, when the paper gets here, be quick about ironing it,” Thomas barked at the nearest hallboy while he put out his cigarette. The boy nodded obediently and Thomas made his way inside.

Servants whisked around the kitchen, grabbing trays and folding napkins and Thomas slid into his own routine, grabbing the toast and racing to the stairs. Before he could make it past the second step, the hall boy sprinted up to him, paper in hand. Thomas put it on his tray and continued upstairs.

“Where is the paper?” Mr Carson hissed at Thomas as soon as he caught sight of the man.

“Right here,” he passed the newspaper to Mr Carson who examined its pages and frowned. Clearly, it was not up to Carson’s standards, but Thomas was certain that it wouldn't kill his Lordship to read a less-than-perfectly-ironed newspaper for once in his bloody life. “The paperboy was late and Peter rushed ironing it just a bit too much, I’d say.”

“I’d say, as well,” Carson seemed to place most of the blame on the paperboy and as he mumbled about writing a complaint, Thomas breathed out a sigh of relief.

As expected, His Lordship did not seem to notice that his newspaper was slightly less pristine than it usually was as he sat at the table, skimming through it as Lady Mary and Branson bickered over something estate-related that Thomas couldn’t care less about and Lady Edith joined in with the occasional gab at her older sister. Thomas nearly let his lip twitch upwards at one particular remark, but fought the urge. Carson prepared a second tea for Lady Mary while Thomas fixed Branson’s coffee.

“Barrow!” His Lordship squawked, mouth gaping, and all the normal breakfast chatter came to a stop. Thomas inhaled sharply and could feel Carson’s eyes on him, but didn’t dare glance at the man.

“Yes, milord?” Thomas took a step forward, keeping his face appropriately blank.

“Is this true? Are you to be married?” Thomas could feel everyone’s eyes on him. Carson’s hand slipped and the teacup crashed to the floor. Carson did not move to pick it up, instead opting to gape at the underbutler.

Thomas clenched his jaw and forced his eyes to focus on what His Lordship was fixated on. There, in clear writing, was an engagement announcement with his own name attached to it.

_Mr Andrew Hackney MP, of London, is pleased to announce the engagement of his daughter Miss Elizabeth Diana Hackney, to Mr Thomas James Barrow, of Yorkshire. Miss Hackney was a nurse for the duration of the Great War in Manchester. Mr Barrow is the underbutler to the 7th Earl of Grantham and formerly served as Lance Sergeant in the Royal Army Medical Corps. Miss Hackney is also the daughter of the late Lady Laura Hackney, daughter to the Duke of Manchester. An April wedding is planned._

_“_ Yes, milord, it is true.”

“How long has this been going on?” His Lordship frowned.

“Oh, a while.” Thomas knew his tone of voice was rather patronising, but he didn’t particularly care. He was probably about to fired anyway.

His Lordship didn’t seem to bothered by it much. He gasped for a second but recovered quickly and Thomas swore he saw a look of amusement cross his face. “Well, I cannot pretend that I am not quite surprised by this.” Thomas was equally surprised, if he were to be honest. “Barrow, I’d like for you to come to the library this afternoon so I may properly congratulate you and we may discuss the details of the wedding.”

“Of course, milord.” Thomas stepped back into place without another word.

“I’ll have to give Elizabeth my condolences,” Lady Mary smirked behind her teacup and Thomas nearly snorted.

“What an awful thing to say,” Lady Edith tutted, “I, for one, think it’s lovely and romantic.”

“Of course you would.”

The snide commentary continued for the rest of breakfast, but luckily for Thomas the subject shifted from him to Lady Mary and Lady Edith’s own affairs.

As the breakfast dishes were cleared and the servants retreated downstairs, Thomas felt a rough hand drag him towards Carson’s office.

The office door locked behind him and Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned to find Mrs Hughes standing waiting for him and the Butler. Mrs Hughes gave him an apologetic look. Carson sat at his desk and glared down at Thomas.

Despite himself, Thomas couldn’t help but give the slightest smirk. Elizabeth had really gone out and done it. It was official now, they were to be married. Mr Carson, however, did not share Thomas’ amusement with the situation and Thomas could see that the man was clearly seeing red.

“Mr Barrow,” he took a long pause. “Would you care to explain yourself?” Carson’s voice was strained, yet maintained the front of appearing calm. Given how flushed his face was and the way his jaw was clenched, it was taking a significant amount of energy to do so.

“I don’t know what there is to say, Mr Carson.” Thomas shrugged and Carson’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t know what there is to say? I would like for you to explain to me how you met Miss Hackney who, as you know, is a member of the family’s circle of friends, and how in the world you became engaged to her. That is ‘what else there is to say,’ Mr Barrow,” Carson fumed. Thomas looked to Mrs Hughes, who appeared more concerned than anything else.

“We met outside of the house, before you come up with that sort of conclusion, and we got on well enough that we’ve decided to marry.” It wasn’t really a lie, it was true that they did get along well; Thomas just wasn’t interested in her womanly virtues.

“You’ve yet to disclose where you’ll be having this wedding,” Carson sneered.

“We’ve yet to discuss that, Mr Carson.” Thomas turned on his “innocent” voice and Carson’s frown deepened.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “When you do discuss the whereabouts with your… fiancée... you will inform me,” Carson said the word “fiancée” as if it physically pained me and Thomas sort of loved it.

As Thomas left Carson’s office, he stopped outside the door and eavesdropped for a moment. The voices were muffled but he could hear clear enough to understand.

“Though I cannot say I’m pleased with his unconventional choice of bride, at least he’s conquered this illness of his and given up his silly notion that the world will conform to his ways,” Thomas heard Carson say and he rolled his eyes, even if his words stung slightly.

“I have to disagree with nearly all of that, Mr Carson. However, I will attend his wedding and give him my sincerest congratulations regardless,” Mrs Hughes responded. Her footsteps seemed to come closer to the door and Thomas ducked out before he could be caught with his ear pressed to the door like a child.

“Thomas, when were you going to tell me that you’re a taken man?” Thomas spun around to see Baxter giving him a sickly sweet look. The look changed as she took a step towards him and concern seemed to fill her eyes. “What’s going on? Please tell me.” She said in a hushed voice.

In a moment of weakness, Thomas gave in. “Find me in the courtyard tonight after dinner.” He instructed her unconsciously. He froze in shock of his own honesty, but realized that he did want her to know the truth, so didn’t retract the statement.

“Alright,” her hand came up to squeeze his shoulder and he swallowed the knot in his throat. She left him by himself once again and he found himself heading to the kitchen - his original destination.

“Thomas, is it really true that you’re getting married?” Daisy asked Thomas immediately upon arrival. Hopefully, they’d all get sick of asking soon enough.

“Yes, Daisy, it’s true. I’m a promised man,” He smirked at his own boast and Daisy grabbed his forearms enthusiastically. He didn’t even bother to correct her for calling him by his first name.

“It’s so wonderful, Thomas, I could cry!” She gave him a lopsided grin and he couldn’t help but feel his heart warm a little, even if she was being ridiculous. “You’ll invite us to the wedding, won’t you?” Thomas hadn’t actually thought of the logistics yet, considering they’d likely be married in London at Elizabeth’s family house.

Despite this, Thomas grinned right back at Daisy. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Isn’t it wonderful, Mrs Patmore?” Daisy turned to her.

“Oh, get back to work, you two picnic-goers!” Mrs Patmore hurried past the two of them, preparing the family’s luncheon and fuming.

“Mrs Patmore, are you to say you’re not the least bit excited?” Daisy pressed.

“Daisy, you can make a boy into a baker, but you can’t make a cake-eater into a groom!” Mrs Patmore screeched nonsensically and Thomas found himself chuckling under his breath. “Now would you hurry up with the poached salmon. As for you,” she waved a wooden spoon at Thomas, “get out of my kitchen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed this long overdue chapter :) Hopefully the next one will come out much quicker!
> 
> Fun fact: “cake-eater” was a real term in the 1920s that was basically slang for homosexual lol.


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